“You are hystérique,” she said gently. “I t’ink you have not eat so much—yes?”
I told her I had had my dinner, which was not true, and after a while, when I had dried my tears and was feeling more composed, she resumed, just as if I had not said I would not do it.
“It is not so hard as you t’ink. You will yourself undress behind ze screen dat they provide, wiz one chair for you to rest upon. Nobody look at you when you take off dose clothes. Dere also is one wrapper for you to cover over your body, and when ze monitor he call: ‘Pose!’ you will walk wiz ze wrapper on top you to ze model stage, and only den you will drop ze wrapper. Listen, enfant! If you have take dat dreenk I am tell you ’bout, you will forget dat it is your body, and dat you have on no clothes. You will say to yourself: ’Dis is not me. Dis is jus’ some statue—so many lines for dem to draw and paint, to make some peecture. Ze real me, I am lef’ in my clothes dat are behind dat screen. Voilà, enfant?”
I was beginning to get her spirit, and I said:
“Why, yes, I do see. It’s like acting, isn’t it? I will forget it is I.” I tried to laugh and added: “I will say: ‘O Lord, have mercy on me, this is none of me!’ That’s an old Mother Goose rhyme, Miss St. Denis.” Because I could see she had fatigued herself on my account, and it was my turn now to comfort and reassure her, I put my arms about her and hugged and kissed her. Tears came into my eyes, and she murmured:
“Pauvre petite enfant! You look like ma petite sœur!”
XXXV
I WENT directly from Miss St. Denis’ to the school. I asked to speak to Mr. Lawton, the master, and he came out to the little anteroom and looked at me sharply while I spoke. I knew my voice was trembling but I said as bravely as I could:
“I have come from Miss St. Denis. She is ill; but I will take her place.”
“You have posed nude before?” he asked, his eye seeming to scan me from head to foot.